


Sweet Sounds

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The reader lives at the Sanctuary, staying out of trouble and remaining unnoticed by anyone that matters, until Negan hears her sing.





	Sweet Sounds

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous request sent in an embarrassingly long time ago! Cute little fluffy piece that was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ‘So I have a Negan request. reader goes unnoticed as she’s a fairly new savior as no one tries to get to know her so she tends to stay quiet(even though she can easily hold her own by herself out there with no one). And when she’s taking a day off to chill she’s singing “surrender to me” by Richard Marx and Negan hears her.’

Negan’s long limbs were folded against the hard plastic of the chair at the head of the table in the Sanctuary canteen.  Clad in worn, grey denim, lean legs seemed to go on forever, giving way to bright white cotton stretched over a taut stomach.  His shoulders were broad, the definition of the muscles in his arms on display without the leather jacket that was slung over the back of his seat.  It had been a while since he’d shaved and his cheeks and chin were dusted with a fine smattering of salt and pepper stubble, darker above his top lip, bordering the dusky pink that he was wetting now with the tip of his tongue as he smirked at one of his men.  The sunlight streaming in from the high factory windows cast the angles of his face into stark relief, enhancing the cut of his jaw, softened by the dips of his dimples, and making his amber eyes sparkle.  This early in the morning, his hair was still neatly slicked back, the thin tracklines created by the teeth of his comb still visible between the dark strands, but you knew that by dusk it would be mussed, the product he favoured unable to stand up to endless hours of his long fingers running through it, tugging on it in frustration.  You thought you liked it better like that, a little messier, a little unkempt, though you knew the stress that caused it was taking a toll on everyone in the community.  Today, your leader seemed relaxed, but it was a brief lull in the weeks of tension that had followed him around the compound like a dark storm cloud, raining torrents on anybody that crossed his path.  

You paused in your close observation of the boss to take a mouthful of the scrambled eggs that were cooling on the plate in front of you.  You weren’t alone, every seat on your table taken, but you weren’t on speaking terms with any of the occupants.  You tended to keep yourself to yourself at the Sanctuary, having realised pretty early on that it was the best way to ensure your survival.  You’d become a Savior, one of Negan’s soldiers, when you’d helped take down a small crowd of walkers that had brought down one of the fences, but since then you’d stuck to following orders and melting into the background.  It meant you had few friends, even fewer that you could really talk to, but it also meant that you were free to enjoy the view whilst you ate your meal, and that was just the best start to your day off that you could have had.

Your gaze flicked back to the man who was now levering himself to his feet, glancing around the room at his people as he slipped his jacket on and stooped to retrieve Lucille from where she leant against the table.  For a fraction of a second, his eyes met yours, breathtaking and intense, dragging you in to a dark hole through which you thought you might fall forever, and you swallowed hard as your pulse began to race, but then his focus was drifting over you, moving past you, as he strode from the room, oblivious to your attentions.  Feeling vaguely embarrassed for the way your body had reacted to the slightest possibility that a man like Negan might have noticed you, you abandoned your food and pushed your chair back, fighting the heat that had risen in your cheeks.  Of course, he wouldn’t have been looking at you.  You’d never spoken two words to the community’s leader and he had a whole lot of people under his charge.  Your affections had grown from a distance, watching the easy way he strolled along the corridors, the litheness of his movements as he jumped down from one of the trucks and the raw strength of him as he beat down corpses and enemies alike.  His voice, a sweet, rasping drawl, like honey over gravel, had enchanted you as he’d preached to you from the raised walkway in the main hall and his charisma had drawn you in.  But you spent your life in the shadows and Negan… He burned like the brightest star.

Making your way outside, searching for a little solitude to nurture your disappointment, you found yourself alone in the sun-bathed grounds.  You knew that further round the building there would be guards on watch at the gate, but in the small rec area, the picnic tables were vacant.  It was the peace you needed and you sank down on one in the centre of the yard, leaning your head back and letting the golden rays warm your skin.  It was days like this - when you had nowhere else to be, nothing to be doing; when you had the space you needed to be able to relax and not worry about letting your guard slip for a moment; when the sky was cornflower blue without a cloud in sight - that it almost felt like the world hadn’t ended.  Like you were back in your little apartment, just home from work, with a glass of wine in one hand and the other trailing over the cool, ivory-white keys of the piano that stood in your lounge.  You could still feel the resistance against your fingers if you moved them the right way, could still hear the melody like it was playing right then and there.  It was your escape, the one thing you loved and knew for sure that you were good at, and you’d often found yourself there after a long day at work, venting your stresses and frustrations into the music.

As your mind slipped back into your memories, you found yourself humming a familiar tune and, with a subtle glance around to ensure that you were still alone, you opened your mouth and began to sing.  

_Is it that we’ve been together much too long?  
_ _The answer may not be in black and white.  
_ _We’re always trying to prove who’s right or wrong,  
_ _Yet now we’re giving up without a fight.  
_ _But I know when you’re gone,  
_ _I’ll wish I held on._

This song was your comfort blanket, the first one you played when you just needed to lose yourself in something, to escape reality for a while.  The lyrics came to you as easily as breathing and with every word you let your voice grow louder, stronger.  It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to sing like this.  It belonged to a time that didn’t exist anymore.  And yet, it felt so good to belt out the words, knowing that there was no-one around to hear you, the growls of the undead chained to the fences surely drowning out the sound for anybody on watch.  An old confidence that you vaguely remembered wrapped itself around you, like a wild vine, blossoming into something brilliant and beautiful.  

_So, baby, surrender to me.  
_ _There’ll be no holding back now.  
_ _So, baby, surrender to me tonight._

A slow clap from behind you, as you held the final note and let it fade away, had you springing from the bench, alert and annoyed, your tranquillity disturbed by some arrogant son of a bitch who thought that you either wanted or needed an audience.  Your body was in fight or flight mode, wrestling over the decision of whether to let out a snarled sarcastic attack or duck your head and hurry away, but then those hypnotic eyes that you’d admired from afar locked with yours and your instincts went into meltdown.

‘Shit, doll, you got a hell of a set of pipes on you!’

You fidgeted uncomfortably, wringing your hands together, unsure of what to say or how to handle this moment.  You’d dreamt of it so many times, Negan actually noticing you, taking time out of his day to strike up a conversation, but now that it was happening your mouth had gone dry.  'I-I didn’t realise anybody was listening.’

‘Couldn’t fucking help myself.’  He shot you a devilish grin and your heartbeat faltered.  ‘Tell me, princess, why haven’t I seen you round here before?’

‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled.  'I’ve been here a while now.  I work under Gavin.’

'Huh.’  Negan nodded slowly.  'Well, I’ll be damned.  Woulda thought I’d have noticed a cute little thing like you.’

'I tend to keep my head down.’

'Is that right?’  His gaze was burning in to you, scorching your skin and you knew he must be able to see the way your hands trembled in his presence as he moved closer, leaning against the table in front of you and cocking his head to one side.  'What’s your name?’

'Y/N,’ you managed to choke out.

'And you’re a fucking Savior?  Wouldn’t have bet my ass on that one.  You telling me you can fight as well as you sing?’

Momentarily stumped, you shrugged then nodded before finally admitting, 'I was out there for a long time.  It was fight or die.’

‘Well, tickle my balls!  Not only are you sexy as shit with that voice and that little smile there, you’re a goddamn badass!’  Your whole body was aflame now and you found yourself studying the ground intently, unable to meet his unwavering stare, the slight smirk that quirked up the corners of his mouth as his tongue snaked out over his bottom lip.  ‘I know who you are now, sweetheart, and I think you should come and fucking sing for me sometime.  Just for me.’

'I-I guess I could do that.’  It was flattering, really, and you knew you should be grateful that your voice seemed to have gotten you into Negan’s good graces, but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to cope on your own with him, with his focus solely on you, without completely falling apart.  'Is there a particular song you’d want me to learn, or-’

You were cut off by a smooth, leather-encased finger being pressed to your lips and you shivered at the contact.  'Oh, darlin’, I wasn’t talking about a song.’  You watched in silent awe as he drew himself up to his full height, towering over you, his cool minty breath ghosting over your face.  'I bet I can pull all kinds of sweet sounds outta you.  Oh yes, I will.  You’re gonna sing for me, baby, and you’re gonna love every goddamn second.’


End file.
